


31 Days of Winter Prompts

by deanssammy (babylxxrry)



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, see each chapter for a full set of tags and warnings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy
Summary: basically what the title says. originally intended to be a once-a-day kind of thing for december, i may extend it to the entirety of winter if i run out of time for just this month.now complete!





	1. Decorations

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so essentially how i'm doing this in terms of formatting per chapter:
> 
> Prompt: _____  
> Warnings/TWs: _____  
> Tags: _____ (will all be added to general tag category when i have time, but make sure to check for specifics!!)  
> Pairing: _____ (if at all)
> 
> so as an example, the first chapter is:
> 
> Prompt: Decorations  
> Warnings/TWs: N/A  
> Tags: Fluff  
> Pairing: Gen/NA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Decorations  
> Warnings/TWs: N/A  
> Tags: Fluff, Domestic  
> Pairing: Gen/NA

“Sam, what the fuck are those?”

Sam whips around, jumping futilely in front of the pile of plastic bags he’s rummaging through.

“I- what? What are what?”

Dean tilts his head at him like he’s thick. “Those,” he says slowly. “The bags.”

Sam sighs, running a hand though his hair. “I, uh, went out and got some things.”

Dean’s eyebrow quirks, and Sam feels himself flush.

“Nevermind, ‘s stupid,” Sam mutters, gathering up the bags and turning for his room.

A firm hand on his arm stops him in his tracks. He glances over to see Dean standing there, staring at him expectantly.

“What’s in the bags, Sammy?”

And let’s just be real, Sam could never resist when his brother pulled out the nickname.

With a sigh, Sam sets the bags down. “Just promise not to laugh, okay?” He starts unloading his haul piece by piece.

“Decorations?” Dean asks, a carefully neutral tone in his voice. It unnerves Sam. Dean never uses that voice with him, they’ve tried to be more honest with each other recently.

Sam nods, gnawing at his lip and glancing up at Dean through his lashes. “Wanted to, y’know, try and make the bunker a little less plain with the holidays coming up.”

Dean’s bright smile is exactly the opposite of the grimace or dismissal that Sam’s expecting.

“Great. I’ll take the kitchen, the garage, and my room. You can do the library, the hallways, and your room.”

“You sure you okay, Dean? Thought you’d be all pissy about it.”

Dean snorts, and Sam can’t bite back his grin. “No, course not. What do you take me for, the Scrooge?”

Sam dodges Dean’s swipe at the back of his head with practiced ease. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

 

-fin.


	2. Drawer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Drawer  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Domesticity  
> Pairing: J2
> 
> NOTE: rating has been updated from teen to mature for sex toy talk

“Don’t open that!” Jensen yells as he skids around the corner into his room on just socks. He nearly wipes out but catches himself in time to see Jared freeze with his hand on Jensen’s nightstand drawer. “Don’t open it,” he repeats, at a slightly lower volume.

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Jensen purses his lips, rakes his brain for an excuse. “I, uh. Your Christmas present is in there, don’t wanna spoil it.” It’s the truth. Not the whole truth, no, but most of it. It’s technically Jared’s Christmas present, but it’s also much, much more than that.

Jared’s eyebrow rises even farther into his hairline, and Jensen’s surprised it doesn’t just detach from his face and keep floating up. “Okay. If you say so.”

“What were you looking for in the first place?” Jensen tries to turn the subject away, but he immediately regrets it when Jared smirks.

“Lube.”

This time, it’s Jensen’s time to raise an eyebrow. There’s a lot of eyebrow raising in this house. “It’s ten in the morning, Jared, and we’re leaving for set in ten minutes.”

Jared shrugs. “I’m out, what did you want me to do, just shove a buttplug in dry and rip up my ass? Don’t think so, Jen.”

Jensen chokes down a gasp. “Christ. You’re just gonna wear a buttplug the whole day?”

Jared shrugs again, shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “It’d keep me open for you to fuck me whenever you wanted,” he explains casually, like he’s not talking about Jensen just… being able to bend him over whenever and wherever. Fuck.

“Under the sink,” Jensen mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. He needs to delete this conversation and all its associated mental images, because now that he knows, he won’t be able to stop thinking about it, and popping a stiffy in the middle of a scene is generally frowned upon. Goddamnit, Jared. Why did Jensen decide it was a good idea to fall in love with this man in the first place? Jensen’s only consolation is that Jared hadn’t looked in his drawer, because shoved to the back is a little black velvet box. Hopefully the titanium band currently residing in there will no longer be there after their Christmas Eve date night.

Jared drops a kiss to Jensen’s cheek as he slips back out of the room, lube in hand. “Love youuu, Jen.”

Jensen smiles at that. Yeah. He’s ready for this.

 

 

-fin.


	3. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Family  
> Warnings/TWs: N/A  
> Tags: Character Study, Family  
> Pairing: Implied Wincest/Gen

They’ve never really had an idea of family that wasn’t twisted up in revenge and carnage and destruction. It’s always been just Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean. They were always there for each other, every holiday, every birthday. Then Stanford happened, and Dean’s world turned upside down. Suddenly, the only family he’d ever had was gone. Disappeared.

John didn’t count. Never did. Well. They tried to make it work, tried to bring him into their bubble and make him family, but it was always just that much off, just that much not-quite-right.

Then Sam was back.

And it became Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean.  It’d always been Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean.

Then there was Cas. And he and Dean had hit it off, but he and Sam were constantly at odds, and that just wouldn’t do. No way some angel would break up the Winchester family of two. And then there was no more Cas, and everything just kind of worked out again. Dean had felt the loss a bit, but Sam hadn’t shown it, in any case. And it was Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean. Family. And then it was just them for a while.

Mary. Mary was next. They hadn’t even tried to bring her into the family. She was their mother, yeah, but Dean had barely remembered her, and she was as good as a stranger to Sam. It was a lot of Dean and Sam and Sam and Dean then, but oddly subdued. Like they were trying to distance themselves to try and be “normal brothers”, and that’d stung both of them. They’d never been _normal_ , per se, given that Dean had basically raised Sam, and they’d always been stupidly codependent and aware of each other and _really fucking close_ , so not being that was a bit of a trial. But in the end, it came back to just them. Just Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean, against the world.

And then Jack and Cas and Kevin happened, and that’d been different. Because Cas was preoccupied with his son, and Sam didn’t get as weird and possessive and snappy as before. And Kevin just… appeared one day, and he just ended up staying. It was Dean and Sam, still. But it was also Sam and Dean and Cas and Jack and Kevin. And none of them really knew what to think about it. It’d worked.

Dean looks around the table. Sammy’s to his left. Cas and Jack and Kevin are across from them.

And it just fits. It feels right. Dean and Sam Winchester. Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester and Castiel and Jack and Kevin, honorary Winchesters.

Family.

Dean clears his throat. “Here’s to family.”

Five bottles clink together, and Dean smiles, the action mirrored four times around him.

 

 

-fin.


	4. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mistletoe  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Pranks, Mistletoe, Fluff  
> Pairing: J2

Jensen groans when he realizes _someone’s_ hung mistletoe all over set. Everywhere. Over every single goddamn door. Even the bathroom. And his dressing room. And everyone else’s dressing rooms. And if he’s not mistaken, even the fucking boom mic has a sprig dangling from it.

His first thought is _goddamnit, Misha_. When he spots Misha on the other side of the studio, though, looking just as shell-shocked as he feels, he has a suspicion it’s not Misha’s doing. Still. It’s worth asking.

“Ay, Collins,” Jensen calls across the room, over the hustle and bustle of people setting up cameras and making set adjustments.

Misha looks down from the ceiling, eyes scanning for whoever called his name. He nods when he sees Jensen. “Is this another one of your godforsaken pranks?”

Jensen waves him over, watching as he traverses the constant stream of interns and crew and wardrobe people with a fluidity that still surprises Jensen every time he sees it. He’s never been able to walk all the way across a studio without bumping into at least one person, and vows to ask Misha how he does it when they have a break.

“Not my fault,” Jensen says once Misha’s close enough not to shout at.

Misha hums. “Huh. Have you seen Alex or Jared, today, though? Could be one of them.”

When Jensen thinks about it, he realizes Jared ducked out early this morning, and he hasn’t seen Alex yet, which is odd, given that their dressing rooms are adjacent to each other and usually the kid comes and says hi most days.

A flurry of movement in one of the other doorways catches both their eyes, and Jensen automatically spots Jared’s hair flowing behind him as he disappears down the hall. He’s running before he thinks about it, dodging crew members left and right as he chases Jared. It’s all his fault, Jensen’s pretty sure. If Misha’s his first suspect, Jared’s a close second.

He skirts the doorframe and stops when he realizes it’s a hall he hasn’t been in much before. There’s a trail of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling, though, so he decides to follow those.

“Jay?” Jensen calls when he arrives at a door, slightly ajar.

There’s a silence that’s almost too silent, and Jensen can almost hear Jared trying to stifle his giggling. He pushes the door open and almost screams when something falls on his head. It’s one of those stupid decorations—kissing balls, he thinks they’re called.

“Padalecki!” Jensen yells, and he whips around when Jared’s cackling erupts from behind him. The man himself appears a moment later from a door across the hall.

“The hell is this,” Jensen starts, though he’s grinning at Jared, because no one can with a heart can resist Jared’s laughter.

“You’ve- You’ve got something in your hair,” Jared gets out through another bout of laughter. He takes the few steps towards Jensen, and reaches up behind him. There’s a tickle on the back of Jensen’s head, but he suppresses the urge to bat at it in favor of taking in Jared’s face, so close to his own. Jared’s lips are temptingly close and pink and soft and Jensen’s about to break every PDA rule they’ve ever discussed about being on set when Jared breaks into his thoughts.

“Got it!” Jared exclaims, and Jensen glances up to see Jared holding a piece of mistletoe above his head that decidedly _was not_ in his hair.

“You sly asshole,” Jensen murmurs against Jared’s lips before he pins Jared against the wall and presses their mouths together.

 

 

-fin.


	5. Wishlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wishlist  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Stanford Era, Nostalgia, Angst, Upward-Trending Ending?   
> Pairing: Gen/Implied Wincest
> 
> note: i swear to god i didn't mean for this to be 1.2k

Sam never tells Dean what’s on his wishlist the year he leaves for Stanford. It hurts them both more than expected, because Sam’s always told Dean his list, ever since he was old enough to grasp the concept of it.

Dean doesn’t really like to think about the past, but right now, he’s cooped up nursing a shattered wrist in some shoddy motel in the middle of god knows where, and there’s not much else to do.

At five, Sam’s wishlist was short, just _a real life rocket ship_ , _please? Then we can fly to the moon!_

At seven, the entire Chronicles of Narnia. Kid was racing through any book he could, and this particular wish Dean managed to grant with the help of one particularly nice teacher whose daughter had abandoned her set. The look of joy on Sam’s face, the hug he’d tackled onto Dean, and the sloppy kiss pressed to his cheek were more than worth the dark look Dad had shot at them.

At ten, friends. Friends that were around longer than the two weeks or so they’d spend in each town.

At twelve, time with Dad that wasn’t tense and stilted. Dean had spent a lot of that particular winter with Sam’s skinny body wrapped in his arms, his brother constantly sick and often on the edge of deliriousness. Dad was in and out a lot that year, and Dean hates to think of it this way, but he could never shake the feeling that Dad was waiting for Sam to die so that he’d have one less person to worry about.

At fifteen, Sam’d crawled into Dean’s bed two days before Christmas Eve. Dean had pulled him close, tucked him into his chest, pressed kisses to his forehead, thumbed tears from his cheeks. Sam had whispered about his nightmare and Dean had listened and hugged his Sammy close. At the very end, Sam had murmured against Dean’s shoulder, _all that’s on my wishlist this year is no more nightmares, Dee, I wanna leave, I don’t wanna always be on the road. Wanna study, make you and Dad proud._

At sixteen, a hug. Sam had asked for a hug. And Dean had almost broken down in tears right then and there. He’d pulled Sam into his arms, held him tight as Sam sniffled. He remembers telling his little brother to let it out, to cry, and he remembers sitting them down and running his hands through Sam’s hair as Sam sobbed into his chest, little whimpers of _missed you, missed touching you, missed being held, missed being safe_ finding their way to Dean’s ears.

At seventeen, _I just want to breathe._

And it’s eighteen now. It’s Sam’s eighteenth Christmas and they’re apart for the first time. Sam had been so eager to leave them. So eager to leave Dean.

Dean gnaws at the inside of his cheek and runs a hand over his face, swallowing down the lump in his throat that threatens to betray the ache in his chest.

There’s been nothing from Sam. No call. No email. No letter. Nothing. Radio silence.

Dean swallows down another swig of beer, grimaces when he finds it’s gone warm in his hand. His fingers twitch towards his phone, tempted to just… pick it up, find Sammy’s contact in his favorites. He misses his brother’s voice.

He can’t, though, because giving Sam the ability to breathe meant letting him go.

His phone buzzes, lights up with a picture of Sam and him, smiles big and bright on their little kid faces. It’s the only sentimental thing he keeps on his phone.

_Incoming Call from Sammy_

Dean wants to pick it up. He wills himself to pick it up. His hand won’t let him. He’s frozen in place, stuck, heart hammering against his ribs.

The call ends.

_New Voicemail from Sammy_

Dean picks up his phone in a shaking hand. He plays the voicemail.

_Hey, ‘s me. Sammy. I don’t- I just-_ there’s a frustrated sigh, and Dean can almost picture Sam running his hand through his hair in exasperation at not being able to find his words. _I just wanted to, uh. Wish you a merry Christmas. I dunno. You probably don’t wanna hear from me. ‘s fine. I, uh._ There’s a long pause and another heavy sigh. Dean bites his lip. Sam’s too young for that kind of world-weariness, but then again, neither of them have ever really had anything besides that. _I- I really miss you, Dean. Miss your voice ‘nd your hugs._ Another exhale, not a sigh, though, more like Sam’s scoffing at himself. _Sorry. Um. Yeah. Um, I think I gotta go. If you wanna call, I can’t promise I’ll pick up but I- I’ll see it. Merry Christmas, Dean._ There’s an even longer pause, and Dean’s about to close the voicemail when he hears Sam take in a breath the way he used to when he was a little kid getting ready to jump the gap between motel beds. _Iloveyou._ Then the voicemail beeps off and Dean’s a little in shock. He replays the entire thing.

_Hey, ‘s me. Sammy. I don’t- I just- I just wanted to, uh. Wish you a merry Christmas. I dunno. You probably don’t wanna hear from me. ‘s fine. I, uh. I- I really miss you, Dean. Miss your voice ‘nd your hugs. Sorry. Um. Yeah. Um, I think I gotta go. If you wanna call, I can’t promise I’ll pick up but I- I’ll see it. Merry Christmas, Dean. Iloveyou._

Dean stares at his phone. It’s not like he and Sam have never told each other that they love each other, but it was never a common occurrence. It’s been maybe two or three years since they said it last, and hearing his brother’s rushed whisper is like a punch to the gut. He hits the call back button.

It rings once, twice, three times.

“’lo?”

“Sam,” Dean breathes.

Dean doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it certainly isn’t a sob that cracks his heart in two.

“Dean, god, I miss you. So fucking much.” Sam sounds like he’s on the verge of a breakdown, and that just won’t do.

“Sammy. Stay there, little brother, I’m coming.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Sam. I’m coming to get you. Get your shit packed up.”

“It’s finals week, Dean, I can’t just up and leave.”

“Fine, then, pack your shit and we’re leaving after finals. I’m coming, though.”

“O-Okay,” Sam whispers, and Dean thinks he hears a hint of relief in his brother’s voice. “Oh, Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“I didn’t make a list this year. Cause I didn’t think I was gonna be able to tell you.”

If Dean wasn’t halfway to tears already, that would’ve done him in. As it is, he squeezes his eyes shut and rubs away the wetness on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I have a list now.” Sam pauses, and Dean lets him take his time. Dean shrugs his jacket on, grabs the keys and his duffle, and heads out the door.

“I just want you here, Dean,” Sam finally says quietly, and Dean’s chest aches.

“I’m on my way, Sammy, just hold on.”

The Impala purrs to life and Dean pulls out of the motel parking lot, following his instinct towards Sam, back to his brother, back to the center of his world, back to the only thing that will forever matter to him.

“Sam, you still there?” Dean says after he settles onto the highway.

“Yeah.”

“I love you, too, Sammy.”

 

 

-fin.


	6. Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tree  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Pranks, Fluff  
> Pairing: J2, mention of misha/vicki
> 
> note: it'S STILL DEC6

“That’s a motherfucking tree,” Jared says when he steps in the house, kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket up. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the fact that there’s a fully-decorated, ten-foot pine tree taking up a third of their living room. Jensen doesn’t know what the fuck the kid’s thinking, but that tree decidedly wasn’t there this morning.

“What the _shit,_ Jared, did you put it there?” Jensen asks, stepping closer to the tree in disbelief. It’s fucking massive. And real, if the pine fragrance suffocating the room is any indication.

Jared shakes his head, shedding layers as he heads to the kitchen. “Nah, I was with you on set all day, or are you getting too old to remember that?”

Jensen snorts and smacks Jared on the back of the head as he joins him in the kitchen. “No, you asshole, I’m more concerned about the fact that someone broke into our house to set up a tree and just left without touching anything else.”

Jared shrugs, opening the fridge and grabbing a couple of beers. “Was probably Misha and Alex, they didn’t work today or yesterday and Misha mentioned something about rental trucks being expensive a couple days back.”

Jensen hums and grabs his phone.

_Me, 9:34pm: Did you break into my house_

_Assbutt, 9:36pm: Did I what_

_Me, 9:37pm: There’s a ten foot tree in my damn house, you ass_

_Assbutt, 9:40pm: It was Alex’s idea I swear_

A warm puff of air hits Jensen’s ear from where Jared’s hooked his head over his shoulder to read the exchange.

“So it was him,” Jared muses, and Jensen sighs.

“It was, indeed.”

Later that night, when things are starting to get hot in the bedroom, Jensen goes for the lube and freezes when he opens the drawer. It takes a moment for him to process what he’s seeing, but after that, he starts laughing so hard he falls off the bed.

“What the fuck, Jen?” Jared whines, wriggling over to see what happened.

“ _Goddamnit, Misha,”_ Jensen gasps, holding his stomach.

Apparently, Misha and Alex went through and put googly eyes on all of their lube and sex toys, and it’s just so _them_ Jensen doesn’t even know what to do with himself. The mood has long been killed, but it’s worth it when he sees Jared’s eyes widen. A second later, Jared’s laughing just as hard.

“ _Oh my God.”_

Once they’re red in the face and have stopped struggling to breathe properly, Jared grabs the phone.

“Hey, it’s Jared,” Jared says, and Jensen quirks an eyebrow.

The person on the other end of the line mumbles something.

“Sorry, sorry, just listen for a minute, Vicki.”

Jensen didn’t know his eyebrows could rise any higher, and then he realizes he’s still sitting naked on the floor and grabs one of the pillows that’d fallen earlier and rests it in his lap.

“Your husband and his adopted son went through and put googly eyes on all of our dildos and set up a ten foot Christmas tree in the living room and we need your help getting revenge,” Jared says, and Jensen hears a bark of laughter before there’s a murmur.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, mhmm.”

“Thanks, Vicki, love you,” Jared says, and hangs up. He turns to Jensen.

“We may be murdered by one fallen angel the next time we’re on set but, uh, we should have sufficient revenge. Turns out Misha is a kinky son of a bitch and they have a whole sex dungeon in their basement so Vicki’s going to be a babe and… shall we say _lube everything up,_ floor included, and stick googly eyes on the entire ceiling and every piece of equipment down there.”

Jensen wheezes out another laugh.

It’s totally worth it when Misha comes limping murderously towards them the next time he’s on set.

“I BRUISED MY ASS, YOU FUCKTARDS, AND NOT EVEN THE FUN WAY!”

 

-fin.

 

 


	7. Sweater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sweater  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Crack, Fluff, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, Pranks  
> Pairing: Wincest
> 
> note: i'm so sorry.

“SAMUEL FUCKING WINCHESTER GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING ASS IN HERE BEFORE I SHOOT YOU AND SALT AND BURN YOUR BODY!”

Sam cackles and runs down the hall. He’s dragging a very large trash bag containing every towel they own, as well as every piece of clothing they own between the two of them, underwear and jackets included.

Dean’s no doubt pissed, dripping wet from the shower and lacking in any kind of towel or piece of clothing except what Sam’s left on his bed.

Sam laughs when Dean comes into view, murderous look on his face a brilliant contrast to the crop-top ugly Christmas sweater blinking its garish red and green lights at him. It’s paired with a pair of lacy, candy-striped panties that Sam bought for himself but don’t look half bad on Dean.

The ensuing wild sprint through the halls of the bunker is completely worth it when Dean pins him against the wall of a storage room and whispers naughty things into his ear about panties and spanks for being a bad boy.

Suffice to say there’s a _lot_ of noise in the bunker that night.

 

-fin.


	8. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Routine  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Routines, Self-Care Days  
> Pairing: Implied Wincest/Gen
> 
> i know i'm running a few hours behind. finals week(s).

 

Sam likes his routines. Likes knowing what’s happening when, where, with whom, and how. Unfortunately, in their line of work, routine isn’t a luxury they can afford unless they want to be slaughtered within two days.

So instead, Sam creates his own routine at home in the bunker. He doesn’t do it often, maybe once every two weeks when he really needs it, but it helps him relax after particularly hard hunts or stressful weeks.

He’s about due for one of those self-care runs, he calls them. They’re just back from a long, three-week hunt, and Sam can feel himself sliding closer and closer to a breakdown, so he needs to go refresh before he goes off.

“Dean?” Sam asks when Dean appears in the morning, sliding a mug of coffee over to him.

“Yeah?” Dean rumbles, his voice low and sleep-rough.

“I need to, uh. Do the fixing myself thing today. D’you think it’s okay if you mostly leave me to do my own thing for the day?”

Dean nods. “Course. The usual for dinner, then?” Sam knows Dean knows his routine and part of that is Dean’s steak and buttered mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, followed by cuddles and spooning and an early, quiet night spent with Dean. Most of the rest of the day is spent alone, either journaling out the past few weeks, standing under the shower and washing away the tensions and façades he’s had to put on, or reading books of his choice completely unrelated to lore and supernatural creatures.

“Sammy?”

Sam realizes he’s drifted off a bit and that he didn’t actually reply Dean.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Dinner. Usual sounds good, thanks.”

Dean nods and scoops up his mug, ruffling Sam’s hair on the way out of the kitchen. The touch relaxes Sam just a hair and he sighs.

Time to pamper himself.

 

-fin.


	9. Fireplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fireplace  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Domesticity, Fluff  
> Pairing: J2, mentioned padackles kids but as a whole family. no wife mentions.

Jensen watches Jared watch the flames flickering in their fireplace with a soft smile on his face. He remembers how insistent his husband had been about buying a house with a fireplace all those years ago, and while he’d thought it was kind of unnecessary at the time, now he sees why Jared was so adamant about it.

There are eight stockings on the mantle, evenly spaced, one for each of them and their kids. They’re hand-decorated by their mothers, gold and silver embroidered names standing out against the soft white collar of each one. Each kid has their own decoration on the main part of the stocking, pretty pictures of birds and flowers and mountains all sewn on with care. A string of aesthetically-pleasing lights rests just above them, which Jared had insisted on despite Jensen’s snort and eyeroll.

Jensen secretly likes them a lot, thinks they lend a nice feel to the room when the lights are all off and the only light comes from those and the ones on the tree in the corner.

And obviously, the fire’s pretty, too.

Jared’s prettier, Jensen thinks as he comes around the side of the couch to sit and pull Jared into his side. The kids are all asleep at the same time for once, and it’s quite nice just to sit and relax a little with the love of his life.

“I love you, Jay,” Jensen murmurs, carding his fingers through Jared’s soft hair.

“I love you, too, Jen,” Jared whispers back.

 

-fin.


	10. Hot Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hot Chocolate  
> Warnings/TWs: spn wank, nothing besides minor pettiness and passing anti-destiel  
> Tags: Domesticity, Banter, Fluff  
> Pairing: J2
> 
>  
> 
> note: i'm like two days behind i know i'm sorry it's finals week i'm swaMPED

The first time Jared makes Jensen hot chocolate, it’s snowing on set, the hot chocolate is the shitty type while from a packet of powder, off-brand to boost, and there’s so much whipped cream and marshmallow Jensen’s sure there’s less actual hot chocolate than toppings. Jared looks so enthusiastic handing it over, though, that Jensen feels bad saying anything about it, so he doesn’t.

The next time Jared makes Jensen hot chocolate, it’s just hot milk and chocolate syrup. They’re snug at home, curled on the couch with too many pillows and blankets in front of the fire roaring in the fireplace. Jensen just laughs when Jared brings in two mugs towering with whipped cream and marshmallows and sprinkles. Jared knows, of course, that Jensen likes his hot chocolate much like his likes his coffee—bare bones and basic—but he purposefully chooses not to do anything about it. Just a swirl of whipped cream will do, not the three-inch mountain Jared likes. They giggle and kiss and lick whipped cream off each other’s noses.

Before Jared makes Jensen any more too-sweet hot chocolate, Jensen decides to take matters into his own hands and show Jared how to make proper hot chocolate, with real chocolate and homemade whipped cream. On one of his grocery runs, he takes the liberty of indulging in a block of nice dark chocolate, more milk, and a carton of whipping cream and stashes it all away where he knows Jared won’t accidentally eat/drink/use it.

The next time Jared suggests a movie night, Jensen nods and lets him pick the movie—it’ll probably be some cheesy rom-com—while he goes to the kitchen and gets the hot chocolate prep set up.

Jared wanders in after a few minutes.

“How’s _While You Were Sleeping_ sound?” Jared hooks his chin over Jensen’s shoulder, hands sliding around Jensen’s waist.

Jensen snorts. “Ah, yes, the classic heteronormative love story featuring straight people being messy as hell.”

“Did you mean the current arc our dear writers are taking with Supernatural?” Jared deadpans and Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Yes. While destroying everything Sam and Dean ever had, whether you want to call it homoerotic subtext or protectiveness or brotherly love, _and_ queerbaiting the shit out of whatever people see with Dean and Cas.” Jensen’s only half kidding at this point

It’s Jared’s turn to snort. “Tell me about it, man.”

“On an unrelated, lighter note, I got us proper hot chocolate materials. Real chocolate and everything .”

Jensen can feel Jared pouting even without looking at him.

“Chocolate syrup and milk is perfectly good hot chocolate, what are you saying?”

“Momma used to make the best hot chocolate from real chocolate,” Jensen explains, folding his hands over Jared’s and turning his head to drop a kiss onto the corner of Jared’s mouth. “Then she would whip up cream and pipe it on instead of that canned propellant shit you get. Best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, fine, just don’t burn the kitchen down,” Jared sighs, and Jensen grins.

“Good. Grab me the block of chocolate and break it up with those bear paws of yours, will you?”

Jared nudges Jensen with a snort. “At least let me use a knife, you heathen.”

Jensen gets a pan of milk warming as Jared works on breaking up the chocolate. It melts in nicely, and Jensen whisks more milk when all the chocolate’s melted. The kitchen smells like heaven, and Jensen can practically see Jared bouncing on his toes he’s so excited. Once they’ve both tried it and deemed it satisfactory, Jensen grabs the whipping cream and vanilla and sugar and throws it all in the stand mixer that’s been used maybe once in the entire time they’ve lived here. Oh well. At least it’s doing something now?

A minute or so later, they’ve got whipped cream. Jared sticks his finger in and scoops up a bit, sucking it into his mouth obscenely and hollowing his cheeks around his own damn finger. Jensen wants to strangle him and shove him down to his knees at the same time. Maybe simultaneously. They’ve got hot chocolate waiting, though, so he shelves that thought for later.

Jared grabs their mugs and carefully pours the hot chocolate into them while Jensen loads up a plastic baggie with the whipped cream and cuts a hole in the corner. He swirls the cream in neat little cones onto the hot chocolate, which is amazingly still warm, and drops artistically-placed marshmallows on top of that. Perfect.

He and Jared clink mugs.

“To ever more heteronormative character arcs,” Jared says, and Jensen would slap him if he wasn’t holding something.

“To ever more homoerotic incestual subtext.”

It really is the best hot chocolate in the world.

 

 

-fin.


	11. Carols

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Carols  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Meetcute, Dad Jensen, Kidfic  
> Pairing: J2

Jensen smiles at his daughter as she bounces eagerly in the seat next to him.

“Alrighty, Maddie, calm down, we’re still early.” Jensen had volunteered to chaperone her classroom’s caroling outing for the local nursing home, and because of both of their tendencies to need to arrive far too early for everything, they’re forty-five minutes early. The receptionist had directed them to wait in the lobby, sliding over a list of room numbers that had requested to be sung to.

 Of course, what Jensen doesn’t expect is for a lanky form to slouch into the seat next to his.

“Hey, ‘m Jared,” the man says, brushing long hair out of his face. He’s all warm eyes and dimples and a familiar little twang to his voice that speaks to a Texas upbringing. Jensen can feel himself melting.

“Jensen,” Jensen says, sticking a hand out and shaking Jared’s firmly. Christ. Jared’s hands are massive, dwarfing his own, and Jensen isn’t a small man. “This is my daughter, Madison.”

Maddie, to her credit, doesn’t jump into Jared’s arms and hug him. She slides off her chair and marches to stand in front of Jared, sticking out a little mittened hand to shake Jared’s.

“Good morrow, sir,” she says primly, and startles a laugh out of both men.

“And to you, my liege,” Jared says, slipping into a terrible accent and taps her knuckles against his lips. She giggles and curtseys.

“I’m feeling a bit left out over here,” Jensen says, and blushes when Jared turns to him and takes his hand.

“Ready?”

And shit, Jensen really isn’t, but he can only watch in shell-shocked fascination as Jared presses a soft, lingering kiss to the back of his hand.

Jared meets his eyes and smiles.

“Call me,” he says before he pats Maddie on the head and stands, heading down one of the halls.

Jensen realizes there’s a slip of paper crumpled in his palm, and he unfolds it.

 _Jared Padalecki_ , it reads, and there’s a number scrawled underneath it with a little smiley face and an _xx_ that’s more endearing than it has any right to be.

 

 

 

-fin.


	12. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Snow  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Character Bleed, Fluff  
> Pairings: Gen/Implied J2/Implied Wincest

Jensen laughs when they pull up to set. It’s snowing, heavily. As in snow that’s too heavy to film in. They’d planned to do most of their indoor shoots today anyways, but the few outdoor ones are surely going to have to be cancelled, and there’s no way they can move the whole crew to the studio halfway across Vancouver to shoot some of the next day’s motel scenes. He has a feeling they’re going to be doing a lot of sitting and waiting for the snow to lighten up enough to get their shots and go.

He feels correctly, apparently, because they wrap the indoor shoots for the day before 3pm, and then are given the order to wait in their trailers in full  getup until they’re called to attempt some of the outdoor scenes.

Jared follows Jensen to their trailers, and exactly no one is surprised when he decides to join Jensen instead of going to his own.

“Is it ever weird to you to have such an undefined break between shoots?” Jared asks, and Jensen can tell he’s halfway in and halfway out of Sam’s skin.

“Yeah.” He understands. When they take anything less than half an hour of break, both of them have come to realize that it’s easier to stay mostly in character, particularly if they’ve been working on emotionally-heavy scenes. When they have more time, they’ve learned to drop their Winchester skins and take a true breather. It’s rare that they’ll have a “be ready whenever” call like this, and Jensen finds these are the most uncomfortable. It could be anywhere from _right now_ to three hours later that they’re called, and it’s taxing to keep Dean’s skin on for too long, but it’s also a struggle to pull it back on if they’re needed too soon.

“Jen. Dean. You in there?”

Jensen startles a hair, shakes his head to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Dunno who I am, but I’m here.”

“Your voice is like halfway between Jen and Dean,” Jared comments, and Jensen sighs.

“Yours is more Jared than Sam.”

Jared shrugs. “Not sure if I wanna keep him here or not. Too much of his own shit on top of mine to deal with but if they call us back in five minutes…” Jared trail off, but Jensen gets it.

“Mhmm, same here,” Jensen says, and Jared sighs, flopping on the couch next to him.

Jensen opens his arms for Jared, and he burrows into his side like they’re back in season one and they’re just getting their footing and sought comfort in each other all the time. It’s not like that has changed, but they’ve had to learn to be more subtle. It’s rare that they’ll get quiet moments like this where it feels like there’s four of them—Jared, Jensen, Sam, and Dean—all here, and where each of them gets his own little piece of comfort from his corresponding Person.

Jensen from Jared. Jared from Jensen.

Dean from Sam. Sam from Dean.

It’s a little bit trippy and meta if they think about it too much, but they’ve learned to not think, just breathe.

 

-fin.


	13. No Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: No Power  
> Warnings/TWs: minor panic attack depiction  
> Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Fluff  
> Pairing(s): Gen/Implied Wincest

Sam’s rummaging around in the basement of the bunker when all the lights go out with a crackle. He reaches instinctively for his gun and the salt he keeps at his waist at all times during a hunt… only they’re not on a hunt, he’s at home and he doesn’t have any of his defense on hand. It shouldn’t stir up butterflies in his tummy, but it does, because yeah, the bunker’s supposed to be impenetrable, but that’s no guarantee.

He starts making his way back to where he thinks the door is, except he’s met with concrete and more concrete along the entire wall. Either he got turned around or something’s sealed off the door, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before he starts panicking. It doesn’t really work, though, and he leans against the wall, dropping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut against the wave of panic that rolls into his chest and squeezes his ribcage so he can’t breathe quite right. It’s not like he hasn’t been in this situation in hunts before—locked in a pitch-dark, unknown room with no idea what’s happening, but it’s the first time he’s been entirely defenseless and one of the few times he’s been without Dean in the room with him.

“Dean!” Sam yells, forcing air through a tight throat. There’s no response. “Dean!” Nothing.

Sam slides to the floor, dropping his head into his hands and trying to control his breathing. Once his head stops spinning and he can get proper air in, he’ll be able to find the door.

Minutes tick by, and Sam’s having no luck with the whole breathing thing, but there’s the sound of movement from somewhere, before there’s a muffled gunshot and the door swings open on the other side of the room. A flashlight beam swings across Sam’s face, and he ducks.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice comes floating in the room, rough and worried.

“’m here,” Sam grits out, raising his head.

Dean comes rushing over, dropping the gun and flashlight on the floor with a clatter and grabs Sam’s arms. Sam jerks at the contact, and Dean lets go, eyes big and concerned.

“Shit, sorry, Sammy. Are you okay?”

“Panic attack,” Sam says when he can muster up enough breath to talk. “I’m fine, just. Give me a minute and don’t touch me.”

Sam can tell the last part is hard for Dean, knows that this goes against everything they’ve talked about for panic attacks and breakdowns and the like, knows that it just goes against big brother instinct in general, but he doesn’t think he can handle anyone touching him right now, not even Dean.

Having Dean in the room, though, appears to make him calm down faster, and Sam curses his body for it. He’s a grown-ass man, for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t need his brother, another grown-ass man, around in order to calm down.

“Okay. I’m good,” Sam says, and Dean’s back at his side instantly. He’s been pacing back and forth just in front of Sam for the past few minutes.

“Can I touch you?” Dean asks, and it surprises Sam a little. Dean’s never been one to ask for permission to touch, especially not with him.

Sam nods. “Should be okay.” He holds his breath as Dean slowly runs a hand down his back. When his stomach doesn’t twist, he lets his breath out in a sigh and slumps towards Dean, who catches him easily and holds him tight.

“What happened?”

Sam shrugs. “Lights went out, I went for my gun and salt, they weren’t there, I freaked out and got turned around. The door wasn’t where I thought it was, and then I panicked.”

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Sam’s head, and Sam shivers. “Silly baby, you know the bunker’s perfectly safe, right? Nothing’s gonna get us in here. C’mon, let’s get you up and out of this basement. You’re shaking.”

And Sam hadn’t even noticed that, but he is. Well then.

“Hold the flashlight and the gun, please,” Dean says, passing them to Sam, who takes them with confusion.

“Why? You could’ve carried them.”

“Not if my hands are otherwise occupied,” Dean throws a lopsided grin in Sam’s direction. “Hold on tight, princess.”

“Dean, wh-” Sam squeaks as Dean slides his arm around his back and under his knees and lifts him up.

“Alright, Sammy, point that flashlight forward.”

“I can walk myself, Dean,” Sam says, though he doesn’t make a move to get out of Dean’s arms. He likes it, actually. Likes feeling small and taken care of again, even though he’s got a few inches and several pounds on Dean.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

They’re up in the living room by now, and Dean puts Sam down on the couch, grabbing one of their fluffy throw blankets and wrapping him in it, taking the gun and flashlight and putting them to the side. He takes two of the candles from the middle of the coffee table and lights them. They bring just enough light into the room that it’s not pitch black, but certainly dark enough to be cozy.

When Dean sits down, Sam snuggles into his side, and Dean drapes an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close.  

“Love you, bitch.”

“Love you, too, jerk.”

 

-fin.


	14. Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kids  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Kidfic, Fluff, Domesticity  
> Pairing(s): Wincest

Dean’s not in bed when Sam wakes up, which is mildly concerning, given that it’s about three in the morning, and Dean’s never been _that_ early of a riser. A glance over at the baby monitor, though, shows Dean’s familiar form in the rocking chair, cradling their little boy, Quinlan, in his arms.

Sam smiles and slides out of bed, padding down the hall to the nursery.

“Hey,” Dean smiles at him when he sneaks into the room, careful not to disturb Quinlan, who appears to be awake but content, staring at Dean with big blue eyes that’ll change color with time. At least, that’s what the books had said, since blue eyes in a child can’t happen unless both parents have blue eyes, and neither Dean nor their surrogate had blue eyes. Sam’s tired, okay, he gets distracted easily when he’s tired.

“Missed you,” Sam says, pulling a step-stool over to sit on, facing Dean and their child.

“Quin was crying,” Dean explains softly, gently bouncing Quin. “Thought I’d come check on him. He stopped once I came in, though.”

“Attention hog,” Sam says with a little grin. “Sounds a lot like me, though.”

Dean chuckles at that, and Quin babbles out a happy-sounding syllable.

“He likes it when you laugh,” Sam points out, letting Quin grab at his finger. “Also like me.”

Dean’s blushing a little in the dim light of the nightlight they’ve left on. “He really is a combination of us, isn’t he.”

“I mean, he would be. We’re brothers, after all, there’d be a minor concern if a child with your genes was entirely different from me.”

“That’s true. Quin, did you know that Daddy and Papa are brothers?”

Quin just coos at him, and Dean smiles gently. “I don’t think he cares.”

“Listen up, Quin, we’re gonna raise you to love and accept everyone no matter what, alright? We’re not gonna repeat society’s lies back at you. You love everyone no matter who they are or who they love, got it?”

“Don’t think he can understand that quite yet, Sammy, but you can bet he’ll know that by heart.”

“Good. God, I hope we don’t mess him up too bad.”

“We won’t, Sam. We know what not to do, and that’s as good of a place to start as any, right?”

 

 

-fin.


	15. Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Playlist  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study  
> Pairing: Gen/Implied Wincest

Dean’s not quite sure what to expect when he discovers a cassette slipped into his duffel. It’s simply got _Dean_ sharpied on it in Sam’s familiar handwriting. Sam’s been off hunting alone out in California for something like the past year or so. The last time they saw each other, Dean had been so, so angry about something so small, and Sam had been right up there with him, nose to nose yelling and things had almost gotten physical when Sam had furrowed his brow.. It was like the flip of a switch. Suddenly, Sam had stepped back, ran a hand over his face and through his hair, and Dean could’ve sworn he’d caught the glint of tears in Sam’s eyes. _Yeah, okay,_ he’d said. _Okay. I get it. I’m going._

Dean remembers the ache in his sternum as he watched the motel door close behind his brother, duffels in hand and head held high despite the tears he didn’t bother brushing away. He remembers sitting numbly on the edge of the bed closest to the door, remembers trying to control his breathing long enough to crawl under the covers and dig his nails into his palms.

He remembers waking up with the same numbness, running through old patterns of hygiene, of nutrition, of cleaning his weapons, all with a mechanical precision he’s drilled into himself over the years. He remembers packing up and driving out, remembers the pang in his chest when he realized they’d been in the middle of nowhere, and Sam had just started walking down the long, barren road without any kind of supplies besides what he’d had in his duffels.

Dean doesn’t know how the cassette got here. He knows what’s in his duffels at all times, and he knows for a fact this wasn’t here the last time he stopped at a motel, two days and four state lines ago. Huh. He _had_  been in California, working in one of the county parks near Los Gatos… which was less than a half hour drive from Stanford. He knows Sam’s been very near that area by word of mouth and by tracking cases and closed cases, and also just by brotherly intuition. He wonders in passing if Sam had snuck into his room and left the cassette in his duffel while he was out whooping a ghoul’s ass. After all, he’d been the one to teach Sam how to get in and out of motel rooms and leave everything completely undisturbed, and to his knowledge, he and Sam were the only ones who knew his techniques. Even John couldn’t achieve the level of perfect undisturbedness Sam had mastered.

Dean slides the cassette into Baby’s player and wants to laugh when _Rhianna,_ of all people, plays.

“Getting soft, Sammy,” Dean finds himself murmuring before he really hears the lyrics.

_We're ten thousand miles apart_   
_I'll be California wishing on these stars_   
_For your heart on me_

Well, shit. Dean hits the next track button, hoping to god this isn’t what he thinks it is.

_I tried hard to make you want me_   
_But we're not supposed to be_   
_And the truth will always haunt me_   
_Even though it set me free_

Fuck. Dean’s not the brightest of people, but he thinks he can take a hint when it’s so blatant. He hits the button again.

_I'm coming apart and I can't breathe_   
_Oh, every part of me_   
_Was tethered to what we used to be_

Dean really needs to stop pressing that fucking button.

_Should be laughing, but there’s something wrong_   
_And it hits me when the lights go on_   
_Shit, maybe I miss you_

Yeah, maybe Sam’s gone soft on him, but if Dean’s reading this right, he needs to go find his brother _right now_.

_This is my winter song._   
_December never felt so wrong,_   
_'Cause you're not where you belong;_   
_Inside my arms._

Dean starts driving back to California. Recent activity shows Sam’s probably active near Palo Alto.

_But If you loved me  
Why did you leave me_

Dean bites his lip hard, breaking the skin to give himself something else to feel besides the keen sense of hollow in the passenger’s seat that Sam should be in, besides the ache behind his sternum that’s back and a sharper, more pointed pain than before.

_And I'm losing you  
Yeah, I'm losing you_

No. Sam’s never lost Dean. Dean’s been Sam’s from the moment he was born. Will be his until the moment they both die for good. And Sam is Dean’s. Has been since he was born. Will be until they both cease to exist in this form, on this earth.

_And we'll be carrying each other_   
_Until we say goodbye on our dying day_   
_Because I’ve got you, brother._

-fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first person to comment a complete list of the songs (with artist name) gets a shoutout at some point during this challenge


	16. Tiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tiny  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff  
> Pairing: Gen/Pre-J2

When they first met, Jared always hugged Jensen over. It only made sense—he’s taller and it’s easier to reach. As they get to know each other better, though, Jared finds himself wishing more and more that he could hug under. He wants to know what it’d feel like to be protected by Jensen.

All it takes is a Dean death scene.

Jared can’t stop crying. He knows it’s just a scene, just a story, but he can’t stop seeing Jensen where Dean is, and his head’s pounding and he physically cannot stop crying and he thinks he’s shaking.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m right here,” Jensen says at his side, and Jared just buries his face in his hands and cries harder at the sound of his voice. “Shit, okay, we’re taking fifteen,” Jensen calls, and the crew disperses.

Jared feels Jensen hauling him up, feels him tugging him along to the corner of the room. They settle in the shadows, and Jared doesn’t know how Jensen knows that the dark makes him feel better, but he appreciates it. Jensen pulls him close, and Jared turns his face into the junction of Jensen’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of Dean’s leather jacket and old smoke and fake blood and underneath it, the warmness of pure _Jensen_.

He still can’t stop crying.

“Goddamnit, Jay, come back to me, I’m here, I’m safe, I’ve got you,” Jensen murmurs, arm wrapped tight around Jared’s shoulders.

“C’n you…” Jared starts with a little shudder. “C’n you hold hold me?” He’s not sure if Jensen will understand, but he doesn’t really know how else to say it at the moment.

Jensen pulls back for a moment, and Jared starts to cry harder, because no, if that scared Jensen off, he’ll take the arm over nothing. Jensen’s quick to shush him, though, and quicker still to pull him back in, this time wrapping both his arms around Jared, and Jared lets himself slump into Jensen’s chest, curling up as small as he can and letting Jensen manhandle him somewhat onto his lap. It’s almost nice like this, it’s like he’s a child and wrapped up in his mom’s arms, only it’s somehow better. He feels safe and warm and it’s starting to get easier to breathe, cocooned in Jensen’s arms.

“Yeah, good boy, there you go, c’mon, keep breathing.”

Jared feels a hand slip hesitantly into his hair. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat and pushes into it, and feels it start to comb gently through his hair, working out the knots and tangles until everything’s smooth again.

Once Jared calms down enough to pull himself together, he realizes that Jensen’s rocking them back and forth just slightly, and he blushes a little, ducking his head back into the warm darkness of Jensen’s chest.

“Better?”

Jared nods, somewhat reluctant to leave Jensen’s hold. He feels little, feels like a tiny little baby all wrapped up in a blanket of cuddles and warmth. Jensen seems to understand, just holds on tighter, hand curled protectively on the back of Jared’s neck.

From then on, all of their hugs are Jared under, Jensen over. Jared likes being protected, and as he’ll come to find out, Jensen likes protecting him.

It might be unorthodox, but it works for them.

 

-fin.


	17. Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bow  
> Warnings/TWs: depictions of gender dysphoria  
> Tags: click into the fic w the link below for tags :D  
> Pairing: Gen/possible pre-win/weecest

read this fill [here!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055004)


	18. Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cookies  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Cookies  
> Pairings: Gen/NA/lightly implied J2
> 
> note: wanted to try something from Alex's pov!

Despite the shit everyone’s been giving him on set, Alex really does love working with them, so for the last day of shooting before the midseason hiatus, he decides to go all out and make cookies. He loves cooking and baking in general, but cookies are his favorite. He pulls out his battered, hand-written copy of his mom’s double chunky chocolate chip cookie recipe, the type she used to make him when he accomplished something big. He needs to type this up before he ruins it any more with spills and just general wear-and-tear, but it’ll be fine for now.

The recipe says it makes 24 large cookies, and if Alex’s mom’s idea of a large cookie (palm size, but like… Jared Padalecki palm size) is any indication, a quadruple batch should be more than enough to make smaller cookies for the whole crew.

It takes Alex until almost five in the morning to finish up, but he’s got almost 400 cookies divided up into containers labelled with subdivisions of the entire studio, everything from J&J and Misha to the sound team to the directors to hair & makeup & wardrobe.

He crashes in bed for three hours, regretting every life decision he’s ever made when his alarm screams at eight. It takes one very large moving box to hold all of the containers, and _shit_ , cookies are heavier than they appear to be. Stuck in traffic on the drive over, he chugs back a very, very large cup of coffee that’s half coffee and half pure sickeningly sweet creamer because god knows he’ll need the caffeine and the sugar if he wants to get through the day.

Once Alex makes his way into the studio itself, he starts handing out his containers as he moves through his initial “beautifying routine,” Misha calls it. He gets _aww_ ’s and cheek kisses and hugs in return, and he’s happy, giddiness bubbling in his chest as person after person, team after team thanks him with big smiles. He leaves Jensen and Jared’s (double-portioned) box on their dressing room table, and then starts to find the heads of each mechanical team—sound and camera and set and everyone else that works behind the scenes on set. He saves Misha’s box for last.

“It’s unlocked,” Misha calls when Alex knocks.

“Morning,” Alex says as he steps in, cookies held behind his back. “I, um, I have something for you.”

“A confession of everlasting love, eternal devotion, and a contract to be my servant for the rest of your life?” Misha asks, and Alex snorts.

“You wish, asshole. No, I made cookies.” Alex hands the box across, and Misha’s face softens, along with the rest of his demeanor.

“That’s really sweet of you, Alex, thank you,” Misha says, pulling Alex into a hug. Alex lets himself be held for a moment, savoring the contact. Misha’s kind of taken him under his ironically-metaphorical wing since the first day, and if he’s honest, has quickly become one of the people he trusts most. Yeah, maybe Misha can be a bit of an entitled ass normally, but he’s got a softer, more caring side that Alex likes to think he’s one of few to have witnessed.

Once he appears back on set, he almost gets tackled by Jared’s hug and an murmur of _thank you for the sugar, Alex, you’re a sweetheart_. Jensen pulls him into a short hug and claps him on the shoulder. _The double portion was a mistake, Jared’s going to steal half of mine so he’ll be all jacked up and hyper. They’re really good, though, kiddo, thank you._

Alex thinks he could start to get used to this.

 

 

-fin.


	19. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see link 
> 
> Prompt: Alone  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Angst  
> Pairing: Gen/NA

[read here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064943)


	20. Jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jacket  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Stanford Era, Angst, Character Study  
> Pairings: Mentioned Sam/Jess, implied/pre-wincest

Sam’s two the first time Dean wraps his jacket around him. He’s crying and Dean’s not sure what to do but he thinks Sam might be cold, so he drapes his jacket over his brother and watches as Sam calms down almost instantly.

Sam’s ten when he starts getting sick. He’s always cold, always coughing or congested, always too skinny and too small and too fragile to be carted around all the time like Dad wants to, so Dean convinces him to leave them in shitty apartments for weeks at a time. At least this way, Dean can make sure Sam’s warm and fed and sleeping, even if the apartments tended to be moldy or water-damaged or dusty. Dean gets used to sleeping curled around his brother, who’s wrapped in Dean’s jacket over his own.

Sam’s thirteen when he stops getting sick every time, but at this point, they’re both too used to him sleeping in Dean’s jacket and wearing it all the time outside of bed. It’s still Dean’s jacket, though, because the element of possessiveness is lost the moment they label it as Sam’s jacket.

Sam’s eighteen when he goes to Stanford. He debates taking Dean’s jacket with him. It’s Dean’s old jacket, by now, because Dean… actually needed a jacket so he managed to acquire one. They still call his old jacket “Dean’s jacket”, though, because as much as Sam won’t admit it, he likes feeling like he belongs to Dean. There’s also a side of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Dad, though, that’s telling him to grow the fuck up and to stop being a sissy. But Sam really doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sleep without the jacket, hasn’t since he was ten.

He leaves it behind. Decides that it’s time to buck up and learn to be his own person outside of anything his family ever was to him. So he cuts them off, ignores all of Dean’s attempts to contact him besides one call a year for his birthday and a single store-bought card for Christmas simply signed _From Sam_. He carves out a life of his own, one where he’s in a secure, easy relationship with Jess and he’s not on the go all the time. Forces a new life without Dean’s jacket, without Dean’s dry humor, without Dean’s stupid habits. Without Dean.

Sam finds that he misses it, misses the security of being surrounded when he sleeps, misses the warm weight of the jacket draped across his shoulders as he studies. He misses Dean.

He doesn’t really remember why he decides to stop in at the mail center one evening after he and Jess fight about something petty and stupid that they’ll make up with a fuck tonight. They won’t talk about it, and that’ll be that. Sam’s walking to clear his head, and he ends up in the mail center without really realizing it. They’re just receiving a bunch of packages, and the lady at the counter smiles at him.

“Can I help you?”

Sam doesn’t really know why he bothers giving his name. Maybe his subconscious is telling him how much he’s desperate for someone, anyone outside of his (very) small circle of friends, to care about him.

“Sam Winchester.”

The lady turns around, scanning the labels on the collection of packages sitting behind her. She pulls out a small box, barely bigger than a shoebox. When she hands it to Sam, he knows what it is just by its weight.

It’s the jacket. The jacket plus maybe a single piece of heavy paper. The return address is a single P.O. box number, no name, but it’s in California.

Sam thanks the lady and takes the box to a deserted corner of the library.

He opens it and sees the jacket. It’s folded under a single piece of cardstock. He pulls it out, puts the card aside for the moment. The jacket’s familiar weight rests heavy in his hands, the scent of new smoke and just a hint of whiskey suggesting that Dean had been wearing it fairly recently. He pulls it on over his shoulders, and he can feel the tension bleeding out of him, his shoulders relaxing and a shiver running through his body as he’s surrounded by _Dean_ again, safe and warm and _good_.

The card is plain, a single _SW_ scratched onto the front. It’s been folded in perfect halves.

 

_Sammy—_

_Get some sleep. 101 Farm Hill Way, Los Gatos._

_-D_

 

-fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to Magdalena5880 for getting the playlist :D


	21. Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Santa  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Secret Santa, Crack  
> Pairings: J2
> 
> rating has been updated from mature to explicit for discussion of sexy times in this chapter lmao

“Who’d you get?” Jared asks as they’re driving home.

“That’s not how a Secret Santa works, Padalecki, you know that.”

“Oh come on,” Jared wheedles, and Jensen sighs.

“No, Jay, I’m not telling you.”

So Jared starts watching what Jensen buys. They have a $30 limit, so it forces them to get creative. There’s a five dollar pack of gourmet gummy bears and fifteen dollars’ worth of discounted candy, and Jared hasn’t seen where the last ten have gone… yet. At this point, he’s pretty sure Jensen’s buying for him, though, so he stops stalking and starts working on his own gift for Alex.

He eventually settles on a stuffed moose that he decks out in tiny customized SPN merch (that’s what costs the most out of all of it, really), and paired with a short note, that does it.

The day of the swap, Jared packs the moose up in a garishly red and green bag, stuffs it with green tissue paper, and is ready to go before Jensen, which is an uncommon occurrence, to say the least. One minute before they’ll be late, Jensen appears, gift bag in hand. It’s a small bag, smaller than Jensen’s palm. It’s white with silver glitter swirls, and Jensen’s stuffed it with glittery grey tissue paper, and Jared falls in love with it instantly.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, Jackles, I’ve been waiting,” Jared teases, and Jensen punches his shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, we’re going to be late. It’s an hour to Misha’s.”

Misha’s driveway is full by the time they get there just ten minutes late, all thanks to traffic, and definitely not because they stopped for Jared to suck Jensen off on the side of the road.

The door’s unlocked, and they follow the noise to Misha’s living room, where it looks like everyone’s just setting up for the swap.

“Well now, look who’s fashionably late!” Misha exclaims as Jared and Jensen walk in. “Let me guess, Jared, you blew Jensen on the way? Or did Jensen blow you?”

“Guess you’ll never know, will you?” Jensen replies easily, and Jared thanks the heavens he doesn’t have to say anything, because he’s shit at lying.

They settle into the rough circle that’s formed, and Vicki explains the rules.

“Everyone passes their gift to the right until they get theirs, and once everyone’s gotten their gift, we’ll open them.”

There’s a flurry of motion as everyone starts passing, and Jared finds himself with Jensen’s tiny bag in his lap. Jensen ends up with a massive box, wrapped in blue paper patterned with what initially appears to be snowflakes, but upon closer inspection, is actually artfully-arranged dicks. Goddamnit, Misha.

“Okay, newbies first,” Misha says, pointing at Alex.

Jared watches as Alex pulls the tissue paper aside and carefully takes the moose out. His face lights up, and Jared smiles.

“Oh my god, Jared, it was you, wasn’t it? Thank you so much!”

“I’m happy you like it,” Jared says, and Alex beams.

They go around to the left, and Misha opens up some kind of [sex toy](https://www.amazon.com/Vibrator-Prostate-Massager-Vibrating-Waterproof/dp/B01HR86MEK/ref=sr_1_13_s_it?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1513930747&sr=1-13&refinements=p_36%3A1253518011) more complicated than Jared’s ever seen in his entire life. Vicki smirks, and everyone else groans. There are a few others with normal, fair basic gifts before it comes to Jared.

Jared can feel Jensen’s eyes watching him expectantly, so he pulls the tissue paper out carefully and finds a pretty flat box, maybe four inches by four inches. It’s plain black with some monogram inscribed in the cover. Inside, there’s a handwritten card sitting on top of a [leather bracelet](http://asortisuk.com/sterling-silver-black-sapphire-set-silver-and-leather-hook-bracelet/) (gem described below instead of black sapphire)

 _Dear Jaybird_ ,

_Merry Christmas, sweetheart. This is something I thought you might like because you can wear it everywhere and no one will know the significance of it besides us. It’s a birthstone bracelet, my birthstone (aquamarine), to be exact. The color I chose is the color of your eyes, so it’s a bit of both of us there. The gems themselves are tiny, but they’re there if you know what you’re looking at. I hope you like it._

_Jen xx_

Jared unhooks the bracelet and hooks it onto his wrist. It fits perfectly and feels like it belongs. He leans over and presses a kiss to Jensen’s cheek.

“Thanks, love,” he whispers, and Jensen smiles.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jensen whispers back.

The others have the grace not to catcall or comment, and for that, Jared is grateful.

Jensen’s next. He unwraps the box. It’s still taped shut, so Jared passes him the switchblade he’s gotten into the habit of carrying with him. Sue Sam Winchester’s paranoid ass and character bleeds.

Misha’s barely containing his laughter right now, and Jared’s mildly concerned about the contents of this box.

Jared peeks over Jensen’s shoulder once he gets the box open. There’s a plastic bag the size of the box, filled with colored packets. Oh. Jared barks out a laugh and the room stares at him. Misha starts cackling

“ _A thousand pack of rainbow condoms for all your gay sex needs,”_ Jensen reads off the note in the box. “ _Vicki and I were kind enough to include a bottle of our favorite tingly lube, have fun!_ Jesus fucking Christ, Collins, the dollar limit was $30, you spent $125 on this.”

Misha shrugs, wicked grin gracing his features. “Anything for sex, amirite? Though honestly I wouldn’t put it past you two kinky shits to be barebacking all the time.”

Jared blushes the brightest red he thinks he’s ever blushed in his entire life, because god knows the two of them _do_ like barebacking and the mess that comes with it. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of Jensen licking his own come out of Jared’s ass, and _goddamnit,_ Jared’s going to stop that train of thought before he ends up with a boner in front of everyone. Misha would never stop teasing him about it.

Jensen gives Jared a look that says he knows exactly what Jared’s thinking, and the eyes that go with the look say that whatever it is, it’s happening tonight. Fuck the condoms.

 

 

-fin.


	22. Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bridge  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Crack, Yoga, Fluff  
> Pairing: J2
> 
> i was gonna write something 23298458394x better than this but i'm about to pass out and i wanted to finish SOMETHING so here u go, ugh

“Goddamnit, Jensen, stop taking pictures of me, would you?” Jared groans as he falls flat on his back for the tenth time.

“But you look so funny, and the fans will eat it up,” Jensen’s saying, phone camera pointed in Jared’s direction.

“Eat my ass,” Jared grits out, pushing himself up to try again.

“Gladly, though probably not this exact moment,” Jensen deadpans, and Jared huffs out a sigh before he pushes up, back arching into a bridge pose.

It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s offering some nice stretching along his core and his stomach, so he’ll take it.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

 

-fin.


	23. Traditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Traditions  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Domesticity  
> Pairing: Wincest
> 
> it's 4:39am i'm not sleepy

They don’t really mean to make a Christmas Eve Eve tradition out of it, but it happens anyways. It goes something like this.

Sam gets up late, something he almost never does, and invariably, he’ll be awake at his normal time but instead of jumping out of bed, he’ll let himself laze around and be cuddled by Dean as Dean wakes up with him but also doesn’t do shit about it. There’s usually lazy morning breath making out, sometimes blow- or handjobs if they’re feeling particularly feisty, but usually, they just cuddle and enjoy each other’s company.

Then Dean will get up and make pancakes while Sam showers, and every year, without fail, the pancakes will need to be reheated because Dean will come join Sam in the shower and usually one of them ends up being rimmed and the other blown. Then they’ll eat reheated pancakes and fresh bacon because Dean’s learned that he has to wait to make the bacon or else it’ll get soggy.

After breakfast, there’s some form of couple’s workout or weapons practice, then someone (usually Sam) will end up pinned after they practice sparring in close quarters, and then there’s a _situation_ they’ll need to take care of upstairs.

Then Sam will limp downstairs and make lunch with Dean’s come dripping out of his ass. It usually makes a mess that means he’ll have to shower again, without Dean this time, before they actually eat. After lunch, there’s more cuddle time and most of the time, a nap wrapped around each other. Depending on how long the nap is, sometimes they’ll sneak a movie in before dinner (it’s Nightmare Before Christmas if they have time and Sam chooses, or Die Hard if Dean chooses; they alternate years).

Dean always makes burgers for dinner, the unhealthy kind with two patties, extra cheese, bacon, and his secret sauce (Sam’s pretty sure it’s just ketchup and mayo, but the ratio is perfect every time). They always watch the Grinch after dinner, no matter what.

By then, they’re likely too soft and sleepy to fuck, so they’ll talk and giggle and cuddle until they’re in danger of falling asleep in the middle of sentences.

Dean always presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead. Sam always presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Dee.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

 

-fin.


	24. Snuggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Snuggles  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff  
> Pairing: J2 (pre- & newly-formed)

They’re both incredibly tactile, hands-on people, so honestly, it’s surprising they haven’t done this before now.

Jensen’s wrapped around Jared’s back, face buried in the nape of Jared’s neck. There’s no particular reason they’re snuggling, but it’s Christmas Eve and they were bored and Jared had suggested a nap, and here they are.

It’s warm under the covers, bordering on mildly too hot, but Jensen likes being so close to Jared so he’s not about to protest. He feels like he’s protecting Jared, too, even though Jared’s so much bigger than he is. Jared’s a big softie, though, a sensitive little baby moose in a few aspects of his personality, and Jensen can’t help the natural urge to protect his boy from the world. And, well, shit, Jared’s definitely not _his boy_ , but Jensen quite likes the way the term feels when he thinks it. It fits, he thinks. Jared’s his boy, and Jensen supposes that means that he’s Jared’s boy. Huh. He likes that too.

“Jen?” Jared whispers.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“This is about to be weird… but I kind of really like you and I wanna kiss you.”

Jensen laughs breathlessly. “Oh my god. Jay. I like you a lot, too, and kissing you sounds really good right about now.”

They should take more naps if they all end like this, Jensen thinks before Jared’s lips close over his.

 

-fin.


	25. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Christmas  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: see tags in linked work  
> Pairings: implied j2, pre-/possible win-/weecest

[read this here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13154922)


	26. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Rest  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Hurt/Comfort  
> Pairing: none/brotherly love that's just soft and barely implied
> 
> note: it seems that i have a thing about this particular trope of dean coaxing sam to sleep so i'm really sorry if it's repetitive/boring

“Sam, go to sleep,” Dad snaps, and Dean listens as Sam’s tossing and turning stills.

It’s but a momentary reprieve, though. A few minutes later, Sam’s sheets start rustling again, and before Dad can get any more worked up, Dean slips silently out of his bed and takes the few steps over to Sam’s rollaway bed. Sam stills as he hears Dean approach, and Dean crouches next to Sam’s head, reaching out to cup Sam’s cheek.

“Talk to me, Sammy, why can’t you sleep?” Dean whispers, aware of the fact that Dad is only a few feet away.

Dean watches as a range of emotions flit across his brother’s face, all too fast for him to read, before Sam settles on a shrug and lowered eyes.

“C’mon, Sam, you gotta tell me so I can help you.” Dean’s not sure if he _can_ help at all, especially if the answer is what he thinks it’ll be, but on the off chance it’s something else, maybe he can figure something out.

Sam heaves a sigh too weary for a twelve year old. He looks up again for a second, big puppy eyes flicking to meet Dean’s.

“Nightmares,” Sam finally whispers, barely more than a mouthing of the word.

Dean nods. He’s not surprised, it’s something that’s plagued Sam for years, and some nights, Sam doesn’t want to sleep because he’s afraid of what’s in them. Dean still hasn’t been able to get him to say if there’s anything particular he’s scared of, or even specifics about what they contain besides “monsters” and “darkness”. There’s not much Dean can do about this, and it hurts him to know that his Sammy is scared and he can’t help.

“Budge over,” Dean says, standing up and nudging Sam’s side so he scoots over, making room for Dean next to him.

Once Dean’s gotten himself situated under the covers next to Sam’s cold little body, he pulls him in and curls tight around him. Sam tucks his nose into the dip of Dean’s throat, and Dean holds him tighter, slipping one hand up into Sam’s silky hair, running his fingers gently through it. That’s something he’s done ever since Sam was maybe three or four, and it seems to be the one thing that’ll calm him down enough to sleep.

“Goodnight, Sammy, I love you. Sleep now,” Dean whispers against Sam’s forehead, and Sam blows out another sigh against Dean’s skin.

“Night, Dee. Love you.”

 

 

-fin.


	27. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Secret  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Poetry  
> Pairings: none specified but i wrote w forced closet j2 in mind
> 
> note: tried something a little different for tonight... idk, lemme know what you think?

we’ve read this story too many times.

we’ve seen the patterns.

the way they fall so fast and so hard

only to be told that it’s wrong, it’ll ruin what they have

it’ll ruin the show, their images, their jobs.

only to be forced down, to be suppressed

it’s for the  _greater good_ , They say.

 _if you want to keep what you have, keep it quiet. hide it. find other people,_ They say.

and if they don’t find others, They will find people.

They find people to help keep pushing it down, pushing it further and further and pushing them further and further apart until someday it’ll come crashing down.

because that’s what’s going to happen.

this deep, strong love they share

the bond

the memories

the laughter

the tears

all of it

it’ll all come crashing down because they are forced down

and with that

comes the thing They were trying to protect in the first place

the show the reputations the jobs the friendship the family

all of it will come crashing down

and there’s nothing we can do but sit and watch in horrified, pained fascination. watch as it burns.

we’ve read this story too many times.

 

//

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you didn't notice, there's a difference between "they/them" and "They/Them" (lowercase refers to j2, First Caps refers to their management/teams/etc).


	28. Beautiful Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Beautiful Sight  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Lingerie, Cross-Dressing, big-time references to sex but none explicit  
> Pairing: Wincest

Dean whistles low as Sam walks, no, _slinks_ into his room. He’s wearing Dean’s Christmas gift.

It’s a lingerie set, a pair of black, lacy boyshorts designed specifically for men because Dean knew there was no way Sam’s junk was going to be containable in a pair of women’s panties, a bralette also designed specifically for men because Sam’s _broad_ and none of the women’s band sizes would fit with a cup that didn’t look weird, all over a pair of stockings that were, once again, designed for men because Dean’s a classic example of a clickbait target. The site he’d ordered the other two things off of had hit him with a “Free Pair of Stockings, Just Sign Up For Our Newsletter!” Seeing Sam like this now makes him think it’s worth the spam emails he’s getting now.

“Looking hot, darling,” Dean drawls, laying the accent on heavy.

Sam blushes but returns the heated look Dean’s giving him, and oh _shit_ , he’s in heels too. How the fuck he got them, Dean doesn’t know, but all that matters now is that _Sam is in heels_ and looking completely and utterly fuckable and Dean doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“Do I now?” Sam replies, voice the sultriest Dean’s ever heard it, a sharp contrast to the way he’s still curled in a little on himself, just a hint of his self-consciousness showing through.

“Given that I’m about to jump you and fuck you into the floor but even I’m not that cruel, I’d say yeah, you are.”

“Well, who’s to say I wouldn’t enjoy that? I do like it a bit, _erm,_ rough.”

Dean growls and pulls Sam into his arms, crashing their mouths together.

 

-fin.


	29. Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Frost  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Domesticity  
> Pairings: J2

The frost on the grass catching the light and twinkling like little lights is really quite pretty. Jared says as much to Jensen, who just hums and sips at his coffee.

Jared smiles, cups Jensen’s jaw and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek before he slides by him to let the dogs out. They’re waiting patiently by the door, but the moment it’s open, they’re off and bounding in the crunchy grass, leaving little doggy footprints all over the once-pristine frost.

The weather forecast says it’s going to snow soon, which is great, but Jared almost prefers the frost. It’s the same kind of icy, shimmery beauty, but no work is required to shovel or melt it.

“I like this better,” Jensen murmurs, and Jared realizes he’s been thinking out loud again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s simpler and prettier than the snow, and also less dangerous in terms of downed power lines and shit.” Jensen goes for a refill, and Jared grabs the butter for the toast.

“That’s true.”

The toast pops and Jensen pulls it out with his fingertips, dropping it on a plate for Jared to butter.

It’s so fucking domestic and it feels so natural that Jared grins involuntarily.

 

-fin.


	30. Favorite Moment of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Favorite Moment of the Year  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Reminiscing, Fluff  
> Parings: J2

When Jensen thinks about his favorite moment of the year, he could’ve said it was when he and Jared spent a long, glorious weekend in bed during a snowstorm and used up more lube that really would be considered _normal_ , but as amazing as that was, it wasn’t his favorite. He could’ve said it was any number of sweet moments from the cons this year, but those weren’t even his favorite.

No, Jensen’s favorite moment of the year is a simple one. It’d been a day off in the middle of a few particularly rough scenes both emotionally and physically, filming for the season finale back in the spring. He and Jared had slept in, and when they’d woken up, they had spent some quality time just enjoying each other’s presence, talking and laughing quietly, interspersed with lazy morning breath make-out sessions that never went anywhere. Just that. Just the hour or so spent in their little bubble, all work and responsibilities forgotten for the moment, just living for the minute and for each other.

God, that’d been a sweet moment. Jensen thinks it’s stuck in his memory because at the time, he’d wondered if this is what it would’ve been like had he and Jared met under different circumstances, if they weren’t actors, or if they weren’t contracted the way they are, or if maybe they’d grown up together, or maybe this, maybe that.

He’s come to realize, though, over the past year, that he and Jared are the way they are because of what they’ve gone through together and apart, and if they’d met under different circumstances, it’s likely they wouldn’t have seen that precious hour as anything special. That just doesn’t sit right with Jensen, and he realizes he wouldn’t trade what he has now for anything.

 

-fin.


	31. Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Last  
> Warnings/TWs: Major Character Death, Blood  
> Tags: Curtain Fic, this was based on a prompt on ig (origin: tumblr?) where if s&d were both fatally injured, dean would try to stave off his own death for a few more minutes so that sam would never be alone, even at the end  
> Pairing: Gen/Implied Wincest

The last thing Dean does every night before he sleeps is brush Sam’s hair back, kiss him on the forehead, and whisper _Goodnight, Sammy._

He doesn’t know why that’s running through his head right now as he and Sam lie side by side, the leviathan they’d been fighting dead at their feet.

It’d gotten one too many good hits on them both, though, and somehow, Dean knows. This is it, there’s no coming back from here. He presses down harder on the bloody gash in his abdomen. Needs to buy himself a few extra minutes.

Sam’s not doing much better, eyes closed and chest heaving. There’s blood staining his mouth and nose, and the seeping blood around his chest is still growing, creating a puddle underneath him.

“Sammy,” Dean rasps, using what little strength he has left to pull himself up on his elbow, grunting when it causes more blood to run from his own wound. “Sammy, look at me.”

Sam’s eyes are glassy, unfocused, when he opens them, but they lock onto Dean’s face.

“Dee,” Sam whispers, face contorting in pain. “Hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Final stand, right?”

The corners of Sam’s mouth twist into a little smile before he’s coughing, hacking up more blood and whimpering in pain. The sound hurts Dean more than anything else.

“Shhh, Sam, I got you, ‘s okay, it’ll be over soon. I’m not leaving you alone. I promised,” Dean says, edging closer to Sam.

It’s just a few more seconds that Sam’s eyes start to close again, and his breathing gets shallower and more strained.

“I got you, I’m here,” Dean murmurs, finally taking his hand off his stomach to pull Sam into his arms. A new wave of blood pulses out, and Dean can feel himself getting weaker. He’s only got a few minutes, if that.

He brings a hand up, cups Sam’s cheek, watches as Sam’s eyelids flutter and his face just barely turns to nestle into Dean’s hand.

Sam’s lips just barely move, but Dean catches what he says.

_Love you, Dean._

Dean brushes Sam’s hair back, off his forehead. Presses a lingering kiss.

“I love you, too.”

Sam goes still, and Dean lets himself fall back onto the ground, still cradling his brother close. He closes his eyes, lets the darkness finally envelop him. It’s warm, comforting.

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

 

 

-fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment or kudos if this last chapter made you sad bc i cried writing it
> 
> ANYWAYS  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME THROUGH THIS, I GREATLY APPRECIATE IT <3  
> shoutout to ela for commenting on almost every chapter, you're a sweetheart & shoutout to sophie for encouraging me to do this challenge in the first place lmao i love you  
> catch yall later or on another one of my fics!
> 
> <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055004) by [deanssammy (babylxxrry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy)
  * [alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064943) by [deanssammy (babylxxrry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy)
  * [advice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154922) by [deanssammy (babylxxrry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy)




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